Out of the Ashes
by WildheartTheWarrior
Summary: There are four Clans in the forest. That is how it has been. That is how it always will be. But the balance that rules the forest is threatened when a terrible fire strikes ShadowClan territory. Will the Clan of shadows rise from the ashes of tragedy...or will four Clans be reduced to three? For the Warriors Challenge Forum.
1. Fire!

**A/N: This is my entry for the Ravaged by Flame challenge on the Warriors Challenge Forum as part of a contest to become Clan leader. Enjoy!**

A gale howled through the trees, bending the mighty oaks and tall pines to its will as if they were mere saplings. Lightning flashed against the black sky, pursued closely by the bellow of thunder as the roiling wall of clouds continued to move closer in a single ominous line. The storm was going to be terrible; and no animal was foolish enough to leave their dens in this weather.

No animal, that is, except for the cat that was running across the forest floor.

The tom streaked between pines, reddish-ginger fur blowing wildly in the roaring wind. Unusual amber-green eyes flashed warily as he glanced up at the darkening sky. He kept his mouth clamped firmly shut; bundles of leaves hung from between his jaws, fluttering feebly in the wind.

_I have to get back to camp before the storm hits..._

A large boulder loomed up before him, jutting up from the forest floor. But the cat was unfazed. He simply clambered around the rock, squeezing through a hidden tunnel behind it and emerging into a clearing.

The ShadowClan camp was utterly deserted—save for the hulking tom whose dark gray pelt and deep blue eyes were nearly indistinguishable from the storm raging above them.

"Russetfoot!" the tom meowed, taking a few steps forward. "What in StarClan's name were you doing out there!" The gray cat looked skywards. "This storm is going to break any minute!"

Russetfoot, the ginger tom, ran past him and into one of the dens at the other end of the clearing. The other tom followed him, a look of confusion on his face.

Russetfoot had dropped his bundles of herbs on the den floor and was now sorting through them. He glanced back at the storm-colored cat. "I was trying to get all my herbs before the weather hit," he replied. "The Clan's going to need them, especially with RiverClan being so hostile."

The tom smiled. "You'll make a good medicine cat, brother."

Russetfoot didn't look up from his herb-sorting, though his eyes glinted in the dim light. "And you make a great warrior, Stormwhisker."

**~000~**

The two cats huddled together in the medicine den, eyes wide as they stared out at the hurricane before them. The rain still hadn't started, but the wind screamed above them like some great creature, tearing branches from trees and hurling them about in its rage.

Stormwhisker watched the sky, the flashing lightning reflecting in his eyes. Russetfoot crouched beside him, gazing out with a look of worry.

The dark gray tom pushed himself closer to his brother. Ever since their mother had been killed by foxes in their kithood—their father dead before they were born—the two had been inseperable. Despite Russetfoot choosing the path of a healer, they had been constantly at each other's side during apprenticehood. The only family they had were each other; and they clung fiercely to that bond.

Stormwhisker found his gaze drifting to the nursery. One of the Clan's queens, Petalfrost, had recently given birth. He couldn't hear anything over the storm, but he imagined that the poor things must have been terrified.

"I don't like it."

Stormwhisker turned his head to see Russetfoot, looking even more uneasy than he had before. He sighed. "Neither do I, Russetfoot. But it's just a storm. It'll pass." He glanced back at the sky. "They always do."

But the ginger tom shook his head, pupils dilated. "No," he insisted. "Something's not right. I can feel it."

Stormwhisker rolled his blue eyes. "Russetfoot—"

But then something changed in the air. Both cats' fur stood on end; Stormwhisker thought he smelt something oddly smoky.

And then it happened.

An arc of pure light sizzled across the sky, striking down into the forest with a thunderclap so loud it shook the ground beneath their paws. Stormwhisker flinched away from the mighty sound, huddling closer to his brother.

After a few moments, the thunder died away...but it was replaced by a different sound. A powerful roaring crackle, building slowly until the air was choked with thick, black smoke and an unnatural orange light filled the sky.

The brothers leapt to their paws as one, frozen with horror. For the storm had given birth to a new terror—a monster that mercilessly destroyed everything in its path. Feared above any gale or beast, no matter how deadly they were. Feared by every creature in the forest and considered the most terrible foe of the Clans.

_Fire!_


	2. Flight Through the Flames

Stormwhisker was the first to react. "Fire!" he yowled, racing from the den. "There's a fire in the forest!"

Another lightning blast overhead illuminated the camp. As the wind picked up, a massive white figure barreled out of the leader's den.

"Blizzardstar!" Stormwhisker meowed, dipping his head slightly. "There's—"

"I heard," the white tom replied gravely, amber eyes sparking with worry. "We need to get everyone out of camp. Now."

Without another word, he raced off towards the warriors' den. Stormwhisker bolted for the elders' den, the crackling of the fire roaring in his ears. The gray tom shoved his head through the brambles; the elders looked up, eyes wide with horror.

"What's going on?" Amberwing rasped, her golden eyes huge. "What was that crack?"

"Out of the den!" he ordered. "There's a fire in the forest!"

Gasps of horror greeted his ears, followed by a mad scramble to get out of the den.

"One at a time!" he barked. "Be careful!"

Once he'd finished helping the old cats hobble out, Stormwhisker turned. Already, warriors were pelting from the camp in a frenzied rush to escape before the flames reached the camp. Overseeing the whole evacuation was Blizzardstar himself, his white pelt blazing orange in the fiery light. Once he'd spotted Stormwhisker, he bounded across the clearing towards him.

"Stormwhisker!" the leader called over the roar of the fire. "Where's your brother? We need our medicine cat!"

As the white tom streaked away again, it occured to Stormwhisker that he hadn't seen the red tom since the fire had begun. A pang of horror clenched his chest, and he raced towards the medicine den, fearing the worst.

Russetfoot was inside, his ginger fur nearly stained black by the smoke, throwing piles of herbs together with a crazed look in his eye.

"What are you doing?" Stormwhisker demanded. "We're evacuating the camp!"

"I have to save the herbs!" Russetfoot replied anxiously. "The fire is going to destroy all of ShadowClan's supply if I don't!" Stormwhisker growled. Sometimes, his brother took his job far too seriously. "Forget the herbs!" he yelled, the flames roaring ever louder. "If we stay here any longer we're crowfood!"

Russetfoot's amber-green eyes blazed as he glanced up. "Would you rather we have injured warriors and no way to treat them?" he shot back. "I'm taking these whether you like it or not!"

Stormwhisker snarled in frustration; he could see there was no changing his brother's mind. "Then hurry," he hissed. "There's no time to waste!"

Shooting one last glance at Russetfoot, he turned his gaze back to the camp. It had cleared out a lot, but there were still a few stragglers—and among them was Petalfrost, struggling along as she shepherded her three kits along. One kit dangled from her jaws, while the other two bumped against her legs, squealing fearfully. But the silver queen had been a bit sickly at the best of times, and right now the poor she-cat looked downright faint.

Stormwhisker was across the clearing in a moment, supporting Petalfrost's shoulder. "Here, let me," he offered, taking a little gray tom-kit in his mouth. "Where's Shadestep?" he asked, wondering why the ShadowClan deputy wasn't helping his mate.

Petalfrost coughed. "I—I told him to go help the others," she whispered hoarsely. "He wanted to stay, but—"

"You should have let him help," Stormwhisker told her. "You need it."

At that moment, Russetfoot bolted from the medicine den, bundles of herbs tucked under his chin as he ran. When he reached them, he took one look at the situation. Bending awkwardly, he picked up the remaining kit and lifted it onto Stormwhisker's back. "You two go!" he ordered. "Get the kits out!"

Petalfrost's eyes widened. "But—"

"Just go!" Without waiting Russetfoot took off through the dirtplace entrance.

Stormwhisker shot another worried glance after his brother. But as much as he wanted to race after him, Petalfrost came first.

Giving her a terse nod, the pair took off into the flaming forest.

**~000~**

The fire roared above them, greedily devouring trees and brush that lay in its path. Glowing embers floated through the air, looking almost peaceful in the chaos around them.

Stormwhisker's paws pounded the ground as he ran, one kit swinging from his jaws and the other clinging to his back, mewling its terror. Petalfrost stumbled beside him, her breath coming in wheezing gasps as she struggled to hold her kit and keep up. And all the while, lightning flashed across the sky, though the thunder couldn't be heard over the fire. It seemed as if the world was ripping itself apart.

Stormwhisker's lungs were screaming in agony; though the kit's fur muffled some of it, each breath still brought more smoke into his throat. He couldn't imagine what poor Petalfrost and the kits must have been going through.

Out of nowhere, there was an enormous _crack_—the storm-gray tom looked up in horror as a massive pine branch, gutted by the fire, broke away from the tree above them.

"Petalfrost, watch out!" Stormwhisker leaped forward, shoving the queen forward and out of the way. But at the same time, the tiny kit on his back slipped free.

Whipping his head around, he watched it roll away from them, squealing in pain and fear. And then the branch collided with the forest floor, sending up a fresh shower of sparks.

"Scorchkit!" Petalfrost screamed, trying to turn back. _"Scorchkit!"_

Stormwhisker managed to sink his claws into Petalfrost's scruff, though his horrified gaze was still glued to where the gray kit had disappeared. Tearing his eyes away, he began to drag the wailing queen away from the blaze. Though it broke his heart with each step, he knew he couldn't go back for the unfortunate kit. Petalfrost's life—and those of her remaining kits—came first.

**~000~**

By the time he hauled Petalfrost across the creek, Stormwhisker was barely conscious. Blackness hovered on the edge of his vision, and his limbs shook with exhaustion as he nudged her remaining kits toward her belly. Petalfrost didn't move; her eyes were glazed with grief, and a low moaning sound issued from her throat every few moments.

He was dimly aware of being lifted—of being moved away—and he opened his eyes again to see an unfamiliar pair of blue eyes gazing back at him. Vaguely familiar scents drifted into his smoke-clogged nostrils...herbs...and ThunderClan?

Stormwhisker tried to get to his paws, but everything was hazy around him. His vision swam, and he sank back to the ground, blackness encroaching swiftly on his vision. So Stormwhisker turned his gaze to the sky as his eyes began to slide closed.

_Russetfoot._

The thought was random and came seemingly from nowhere, but it snapped him back to awareness in an instant. Horror flooded through his veins as he dragged himself to his paws. "Where's my brother?" he demanded at large.

Before him, the cat who had been standing over him—a delicate brown she-cat with soft blue eyes—stepped back as he rose, eyes widening in surprise. "I—"

Another familiar face pushed over to him. Blizzardstar's amber eyes had a new, hollow look to them. "Stormwhisker," he said slowly, "Russetfoot never crossed the river."

It took a few moments for the full weight of his leader's words to hit him.

Russetfoot had never crossed the river.

He was still out there.

Stormwhisker was racing for the border before any other cat knew what was going on. But before he made it to the creek, a pair of paws sent him crashing to the ground.

"No!" he snarled, flailing his paws. "Let me go!"

"Stormwhisker, stop this," Blizzardstar hissed. "You can't go back there! Not while the fire's still going!"

Overhead, there was a sudden mighty thunderclap. The skies opened at long last; rain began to pour down on the forest. There was a collective hiss as, across the river, the fire was slowly quenched by the deluge.

Stormwhisker continued to struggle beneath Blizzardstar's paws. "No!" he spit. "I'm not giving up on him now! I have to go find him!"

"Stormwhisker, _listen to me!"_ Blizzardstar's snarl cut through his thoughts. The white leader's eyes had regained some of their old light. "I won't have one of my best warriors risking their lives," he growled. "Not when we need you more than ever." A look of grief came into his eyes. "And...face it, Stormwhisker. No cat could have survived that fire. Not even Russetfoot."

Slowly, Stormwhisker's throes began to subside as Blizzardstar's words sunk in.

He couldn't be. Russetfoot couldn't be dead. He _wasn't—_

"Look!"

Through the smoke on the other side of the river, a blurry figure could be seen. As they watched, a cat staggered free of the billowing clouds of smog. His pelt was stained black with soot...but there was no mistaking those amber-green eyes.

"Russetfoot!" Stormwhisker nearly threw Blizzardstar off as he rushed to his brother's side. The ShadowClan medicine cat clambered from the water, leaving a trail of black behind him as he collapsed to the ground, coughs shaking his body. And as Stormwhisker got closer to Russetfoot, he could see the tiny bundle that he had dropped when he fell. A very familiar gray kit—coughing and singed, but alive.

_"Scorchkit!"_ Petalfrost's cry of joy nearly drowned out Stormwhisker's own cries as she raced to his side, scooping up her kit and licking the ash from his fur.

A quiet cough came from Russetfoot as he lifted his head, though his eyes shone weakly in the dim light. "Branch fell," he panted. "Had—had to go around...found him in the fire..." Russetfoot's words trailed off as he rested his head against the ground. The blue-eyed she-cat from earlier bounded over, nosing through the red tom's fur. It was only then that Stormwhisker recognized her as ThunderClan's medicine cat.

But the gray tom's eyes were for his brother and his brother alone as he sank to the ground beside him. As blackness slowly encroached on his vision, he smiled. "You're something else, Russetfoot," he murmured.

The red tom smiled back, chuckling hoarsely. "So are you, Stormwhisker."


	3. Returning Home

Stormwhisker lay on his side in the middle of the dark cave, stiff with wariness as he stared out at the ThunderClan camp. All around him, other ShadowClan warriors lay curled up tightly in moss nests, sides rising and falling slowly.

It had been two and a half sunrises since the fire had devastated ShadowClan's territory. ThunderClan had offered to let them shelter in their camp. It had taken some convincing, but in the end Blizzardstar had agreed. ShadowClan had been lucky enough not to lose any warriors in the fire, but the elders and kits were weak and everyone was exhausted.

The dark gray tom closed his eyes with a sigh. He hated being at the mercy of another Clan as much as Blizzardstar did, but the Clan needed the rest. The aches in his muscles had ebbed, and his throat no longer burned when he breathed or spoke.

The brambles at the entrance to the den rustled, and Stormwhisker tensed and sat up. But only the ThunderClan medicine cat padded into the den, another mouthful of herbs in her jaws.

He relaxed, moving back into a crouch. Streamfeather was remarkably gentle, even for a medicine cat.

The small brown she-cat smiled. "Good morning, Stormwhisker," she said. Even her voice was soft and quiet.

He nodded to her. "Streamfeather."

She stepped around a sleeping ShadowClanner and tucked her herbs into a niche. "How's your throat doing?" she asked.

"Doing better," he reported. A bit of moss was tickling his ear; he twisted around to scratch it with a hindpaw.

The ThunderClan medicine cat dipped her head. "That's good!" she said. She glanced over his shoulder. "How's Russetfoot?"

Stormwhisker turned around to look at the bundle of ginger fur that lay behind him. His brother lay peacefully in his nest, unmoving save for the rise and fall of his flanks.

"He's doing better as well," Stormwhisker said as he watched his brother sleep.

Streamfeather's gaze softened. "You really care about him, don't you?"

The ShadowClan tom looked at her as if she were crazy. "Of course I do," he replied. He cast one final glance at Russetfoot. "He's the only family I have left."

**~000~**

Stormwhisker pushed through the brambles that served as the entrance to the medicine den. Most of ShadowClan were already gathered in the middle of the camp. Gathered around the edges were ThunderClan's warriors; most of them looked relieved that their unexpected guests were taking their leave.

Behind him, Russetfoot followed. The tom's foreleg was still wrapped in cobwebs, and he walked with a slight limp. But his amber-green eyes had regained their old brightness.

As they passed, Streamfeather gave them a small smile. Russetfoot stopped directly in front of the blue-eyed she-cat. "Thank you," he whispered, dipping his head to her. "Thank you for everything."

She nodded to him. "May StarClan light your path," she replied in her feather-soft voice.

"ShadowClan!" Blizzardstar's yowl sounded from the entrance. The white tom stood before the camp entrance, staring up to where the ThunderClan leader Graystar stood on the Highledge.

"I thank you on behalf of ShadowClan for your hospitality," he meowed, dipping his head respectfully. "We all appreciate what you have done for us." The big white tom turned his gaze back to the combined Clans. "But it is time we returned to our own home. We have a lot of rebuilding to do."

Stormwhisker could hear the tightness in his voice as his leader spoke. _It must be hard for him,_ he thought. _He has to admit how weak we really are in front of an enemy Clan._

Graystar bowed his massive head in return. "ThunderClan wishes you well," he rumbled. "We will leave you in peace until you have rebuilt your camp."

Blizzardstar nodded, then glanced over his shoulder at his Clan. "ShadowClan, move out!" he commanded. "It's time to go home."

**~000~**

Stormwhisker gazed around himself in horror as the Clan trekked slowly through the ruined forest. The once-mighty pine trees had been reduced to charred husks. Debris littered the ash-coated ground: fallen branches, flame-scarred trees that had collapsed during the blaze. Stormwhisker swore that they passed the very branch that had almost crushed Petalfrost in their flight from the camp. For a brief moment, the memory of roaring flames flashed in his vision, accompanied by the wailing of terrified kits. The dark tom shivered and shoved it away.

He craned his neck to peer behind himself; the silver queen was trudging slowly along with little Scorchkit clamped in her jaws and Shadestep, her mate, supporting her and bearing a second kit in his mouth. The third kit clung to his father's back, mewling quietly.

Russetfoot, who was walking beside him, suddenly stopped dead. Stormwhisker did as well, eyes stretching wide.

Before them, where their camp should have been, was a circle of black dirt. The elders' den? Gone. The apprentices' den? Obliterated. The Highbranch? All that was left of the towering hazel was a twisted, blackened stump. The remains of the tree lay scattered across the forest floor. The only clue that there had even been a camp was the boulder that had defended the entrance. Only it jutted above the wreckage, a lonely island in the sea of destruction.

For a few heartbeats, ShadowClan was totally silent. Then, the youngest apprentice took a small step forward. "Where's our camp?" she whispered.

In an instant, the fragile silence shattered. Wails of horror and grief rose from the Clans' throat as they took in the fact that their home was completely and totally gone. Petalfrost slumped against Shadestep, her eyes glazed with dread. The mewling of the kits grew in volume as their Clanmates' voices grew in volume. At the front of the group, Blizzardstar frantically tried to calm his panicking Clan. "Everyone!" he yowled. "Calm down!"

But it was to no avail. Warriors continued to howl their fears aloud.

"Our home is gone!"

"What will we do?"

"How will we survive?"

"StarClan has abandoned us!" Amberwing moaned hoarsely.

"StarClan has _not_ abandoned us!"

A hush fell over the cats as they all turned toward the source of the voice. Russetfoot stood tall on his paws, head held high as he addressed his Clanmates. "StarClan has stood by us for countless seasons," he continued, stepping forward a few paces. "Why would they leave us now, after they have supported us for so long?"

"But our territory is destroyed!" Amberwing rasped. "How could StarClan let that happen?"

Russetfoot shook his head. "StarClan has been there for us for worse times than this!" he meowed. "Remember, in the days of the old forest, when Brokenstar and Tigerstar ruled our Clan? And in the days of the Great Battle?" The ginger tom paced forward. "StarClan didn't give up on us then. They will not give up on us now!"

The warriors watched in awed silence as Russetfoot rested his paws on the boulder. "Look at this boulder," he said, turning to face the Clan again. "It has survived years in this forest, and not even the mighty fire could tear it down. So will it be with ShadowClan!"

The medicine cat actually leapt up onto the boulder to gaze down at them. "We might be battered, we might be scorched, but we will survive! We will rise from the ashes of tragedy and become stronger than ever before! Because there are four Clans in this forest! That is how it has always been, and that is how it always will be!" Russetfoot's voice has risen to a powerful yowl as he lifted his head, looking far more like a leader than a simple medicine cat. "We are ShadowClan! And _we are strong!"_

The moment those words left his brother's mouth, the Clan erupted into cheers. Russetfoot climbed his way down from the rock, slipping between his reinvigorated Clanmates to stand beside his brother.

Stormwhisker could only gape at Russetfoot. "I knew you were a good speaker, brother," he said incredulously. "But that was…beyond anything I've ever heard!" He shook his head with a laugh. "Are you sure you don't want to quit being a medicine cat and become Clan leader?"

The ginger tom only shrugged and smiled sheepishly, though his eyes glimmered softly.

"That took guts, Russetfoot." The two whipped around to see Blizzardstar behind them, amber eyes aglow with pride. "If you weren't a medicine cat, I'd make you my deputy on the spot."

Russetfoot simply ducked his head. "The Clan needed something," he said. "They need to have hope. StarClan's protected us before. They aren't going to just leave us now."

Blizzardstar nodded slowly as the pride died from his gaze, leaving his expression grim. "I hope you're right, Russetfoot," he said. "I hope you're right."


	4. Something Wrong

His paws crunched across the ashy ground, kicking up small clouds of gray dust as he walked. A bundle of singed twigs were clutched in his jaws; he was careful not to break any of them as he continued his search through the debris for anything useful.

His paws brushed another stick with his paw. Stormwhisker bent down to nose it—it wasn't very thick, but it was surprisingly flexible, despite being dried out by the heat. Gingerly, so he didn't drop the rest of his bundle, he opened his jaws and lifted the twig, clamping his jaws down on the rest.

_That should be enough,_ he thought. With one last glance over his shoulder, he padded back towards the camp.

As he padded along, he glanced uneasily up at the withered, skeletal trees that towered above him. The sun shone down on the burned forest, warming his dark pelt. Stormwhisker was used to having the shadows of the pines to keep him cool during the day. But the fire had burned away the trees' protective cover; he felt exposed, and this made him even more wary than usual.

The ShadowClan camp came back into view, the boulder casting its shadow over busy warriors and half-built dens made of slightly-scorched twigs and thick strips of blackened bark, peeled from the remaining standing trees.

Stormwhisker padded over to where Blizzardstar was helping a few other warriors rebuild the nursery. Nodding respectfully to the big white tom, he dropped his bundle on the ground. Blizzardstar turned his yellow gaze to him. "Stormwhisker," he greeted. "Thank you. You've been a big help today."

Stormwhisker nodded wordlessly, picking up a thinner stick in his jaws and carefully weaving it in between the bigger ones that made up the nursery's frame.

Blizzardstar chuckled slightly as he dragged a strip of bark over to the opposite side. "Amazing what a few days of work can do, eh?" he continued as he glanced around at the half-repaired camp. "Your brother was right, Stormwhisker. ShadowClan is getting stronger already."

Stormwhisker's ears pricked up. "Speaking of Russetfoot, where is he?" he asked, glancing around. "I don't see him anywhere."

The ShadowClan leader jerked his head towards the forest. "Out in the forest," he said. "He said he was going out towards ThunderClan territory to look for herbs that survived the fire."

The gray tom glanced back in the direction Blizzardstar had indicated. "Is it all right if I go hunting?" he asked.

Blizzardstar turned his head, knowing what he was really saying. "All right," he said. "Just be careful."

**~000~**

"Now, what kind of herb is this?" Russetfoot's amber-green eyes were settled on the little gray kit that sat in front of him. Scorchkit had his head tipped to one side as he considered the bristly stem before him. "I think…I think it's horsetail," he croaked finally, his exposure to the smoke having reduced his voice to a hoarse whisper. He looked up at the ginger tom, fiery yellow eyes wide as he waited for his answer.

Russetfoot smiled. "Very good," he purred, picking up the stalk. Only two moons old, and Scorchkit could already identify some herbs.

Scorchkit's eyes lit up with pride. "Show me another!" he squeaked. "I wanna play some more!"

He laughed at the kit's enthusiasm. But he could only smile sadly. "There are no more," he replied, showing Scorchkit the few herbs he'd been able to find. He sighed. "These are the only herbs that are left, and they only survived because they were near the water."

Scorchkit's ears dropped slightly. "Oh," he said. "Okay."

At that moment, Russetfoot pricked his ears. Turning his head, he saw a familiar broad-shouldered tom making his way towards them. He smiled. "Stormwhisker," he said, dipping his head to his brother.

Scorchkit grinned hugely. "Hi, Stormwhisker!" he said, bouncing over to the bigger cat and batting playfully at his paws. The kit had huge amounts of respect for him, and those feelings had only increased after the fire.

Stormwhisker chuckled. "What are you doing out of camp?" he asked.

Russetfoot smiled again. "Scorchkit decided he was going to follow me out of camp when I went looking for herbs," he replied. "He wanted to know what I was doing, so I told him." As Scorchkit finally sat down, he added. "Scorchkit has a very good eye for herbs."

The big gray tom raised his brows and looked down at Scorchkit. "Really?" he asked.

Scorchkit nodded vigorously. "Yeah!" he said. "We were playing a game where I had to name what herb he was showing me. Russetfoot said I did really good!"

Stormwhisker smiled. "Maybe Russetfoot will take you on as his apprentice," he suggested.

The corner of Russetfoot's mouth twitched as he watched Scorchkit scamper around. "You know, I was thinking about that," he added in a lower voice. "He seems like he has a good memory, and" – he lifted a paw as Scorchkit ran past him –"he clearly has a lot of enthusiasm!"

Stormwhisker laughed. "He certainly does!" he purred. As Scorchkit finally skidded to a stop by his paws, he sat up. "But I think it's time he got back to camp."

Russetfoot nodded, picking up his small bundle of herbs. Besides the horsetail, he'd managed to find a few sprigs of marigold, some watermint—

Russetfoot suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Ice-cold claws were racing up and down his spine, making him shiver. His heart began to pound in his chest, which tightened uncomfortably as if some cat were squeezing it with their claws.

It was the exact same feeling he had gotten when the lightning had struck.

Something was terribly wrong.

Then he noticed how dead-silent the forest had become. All the birds had stopped singing their songs, and not a single squeak or scurry sounded. Even the breeze, it seemed, had stopped blowing.

"Russetfoot?"

Scorchkit sat at his paws, a look of innocent confusion on his face. The gray kit tugged gently at his ginger fur. "Russetfoot, what's wrong?"

"Hush!" he hissed quickly, ears swiveling to pick up any remaining sound.

And then he heard it: from off in the distance came the sounds of battle yowls and agonized screams.

"Stormwhisker, do you hear that?" he said urgently.

His brother tipped his head. "Yes," he replied. "It's coming from—"

He stopped mid-word, eyes stretching even wider. "Great StarClan," he whispered.

Both turned back in the direction they had just come from.

"The camp."


	5. The Loss of a Brother

Stormwhisker had never run so fast in his life. Russetfoot darted behind him, carrying a frightened-looking Scorchkit in his jaws.

The sounds of battle were growing louder as they sprinted through the ruined forest, ignoring stabs of pain as they trod on splintered branches. All they had to do was get back to camp.

The smell of blood reached Stormwhisker's nostrils, and a pang of pure terror for his Clanmates ripped through his chest.

And as they reached the edge of camp, his heart stopped entirely.

The cats of ShadowClan were locked in ferocious battle with snarling enemy warriors who brought with them the stink of fish and the river. The nearly complete dens had been destroyed, broken sticks and shredded bark scattered about the clearing.

In the middle of the ruined camp wrestled two figures. One was Blizzardstar, easily recognizable amidst the chaos. He roared his fury, rearing onto his hind legs to strike out at a sleek, slightly smaller tom. The ShadowClan leader's opponent snarled and spit in Blizzardstar's face, his dark fur gleaming in the light.

Coalfur, the deputy of RiverClan.

"Coalfur," Russetfoot hissed from behind him. "The fox-heart!"

Russetfoot whipped around, pushing Scorchkit beneath a fallen log. "Stay there," he ordered. Then, without another word, he streaked away down the slope.

Stormwhisker snarled, unsheating his claws and preparing to charge after him. But before he could, a heavy weight crashed into his side.

Stormwhisker found himself flat on his back, a pair of savage amber eyes a whisker-length from his own. The RiverClan warrior's putrid breath was hot on his face. "ShadowClan scum!" he spit, raking his claws across Stormwhisker's muzzle. "There's no place for weak cowards in this forest!"

"Stormwhisker's not weak!" squeaked a high-pitched mew.

The RiverClan warrior suddenly let out a hiss of pain. Little Scorchkit had his fangs buried in the tabby's tail, and was shaking it vigorously. The tom snarled. Whipping around, he smacked the kit away. Scorchkit tumbled through the air and hit a tree stump with a loud _thud_.

Pure rage boiled up in Stormwhisker's chest. With a feral roar, he kicked upwards with all his might, hurling the warrior away. Before the tom had a chance to react, he lunged forward, ripping his claws into his soft, exposed belly. The RiverClanner squealed in pain, and Stormwhisker spit viciously in his face. "Get out!" he bellowed, flinging him in the opposite direction.

Without waiting to see what the warrior had done, he raced to where Scorchkit lay. The tom-kit's sides rose and fell slowly; he was unconscious, but alive. Stormwhisker gently nudged him back underneath the log, where he would be safe. Baring his teeth, he whirled around and raced into the battle.

He barely took notice of the warriors he tore into; the only focus he had was on the fury that raged within his head.

RiverClan had been lurking on their border for nearly a moon before the fire. They hadn't lifted a claw to help them as their territory burned. And now—when ShadowClan was weakened after the fire and had nothing left to take—they had the audacity to attack?

A she-cat slashed her claws across the bridge of his nose. The pain barely registered with Stormwhisker as he whipped around with a vicious hiss. He lurched forward, sinking his teeth into the RiverClan cat's forepaw. She shrieked, and he released her and lashed out at her shoulder, feeling his claws catch on her pelt.

As she raced away, Stormwhisker shook his head as blood dripped into his eyes. All around them, he watched his Clanmates fight for their lives against the invaders.

_We're losing,_ he thought with a pang of horror.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he caught a flash of red-ginger fur. _Russetfoot?_

Before he could turn, a shriek broke through the air. The storm-gray tom whipped around to see Petalfrost battling furiously against a massive RiverClan tom. Scorchkit's siblings cowered behind her…and not far away lay Shadestep. The deputy was bloody and motionless. No breath stirred his chest.

With a fresh surge of anger, he shoved his way through warring cats towards the struggling queen. He reached Petalfrost just as the cat pinned her down. Without a single hesitating thought, he flung himself at the warrior, knocking him away from the she-cat. He swiped at the tom, growling and arching his back as he stood protectively in front of the weakened queen; Petalfrost scrambled out of the way and crouched over her kits.

The big brown tom before him let out a ferocious growl. Crouching down, he sprang forward, claws unsheathed. Stormwhisker leapt forward to meet him, knocking him out of the air and sending both of them crashing to the ground. The RiverClanner spit vehemently, snapping at Stormwhisker's throat. But the gray tom simply leaned out of reach, flattening his ears to protect them and lashing out furiously with his forepaws. Underneath him, the tom suddenly surged upward, throwing him backwards. Stormwhisker hissed with pain as his shoulder hit the ground hard. The tom reared onto his hind legs, a look of triumph glittering in his dark eyes. But in doing so, he exposed his soft belly fur; Stormwhisker took his chance and kicked upward at the same moment that the tom came crashing down. There was a _huff_ as the air whooshed out of his lungs, and he was sent flying backwards into the heat of the battle.

Stormwhisker got back to his paws, turning to face Petalfrost. The silver queen looked back up at him with fear in her eyes. "Where's Scorchkit?" she demanded anxiously.

"Safe," he replied. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and disappeared into the fray.

He scanned the battlefield intently, searching for one cat in particular: he hadn't seen his brother since he'd caught the glimpse of him before Petalfrost. Unease fluttered in his chest. Russetfoot was no fighter; that was the reason he'd become a medicine cat in the first place.

_There!_ Russetfoot was holding his own against a nimble calico she-cat who struck with the speed of lightning. Stormwhisker darted across the clearing to where his brother fought, snarling as he charged the smaller cat and chased her away from him. Russetfoot scrambled to his paws, shaking drops of blood from his muzzle. "Are you all right?" Stormwhisker said.

Russetfoot nodded. The tom's unusual eyes suddenly widened, his gaze fixed on something over his brother's shoulder. "Stormwhisker!" he hissed.

Stormwhisker whipped around to see what Russetfoot was looking at. His eyes widened in shock.

Across the battlefield, Blizzardstar and Coalfur were still fighting viciously. But while Coalfur looked barely weakened, the old ShadowClan leader looked exhausted. He was covered in wounds that continued to drip painfully. And as he watched, Coalfur reared up on his hind legs and brought his full weight down on Blizzardstar's head.

The white leader collapsed, unmoving. All around the clearing, the battle stopped as RiverClan and ShadowClan alike stood frozen, waiting for him to get up and keep fighting.

He never did.

A grim smile spread across Coalfur's face. "You see?" he announced to the warriors at large. "ShadowClan is _weak!"_

Stormwhisker was in motion before he knew what he was doing. His paws carried him across the clearing, straight for the black tom. Coalfur's head whipped around, but by then it was too late. Stormwhisker cannoned into the RiverClan deputy, knocking him off his paws as a feral yowl ripped from his throat.

As if the spell had been broken, the clearing dissolved into chaos once more. Cats threw themselves at one another, their willingness to fight renewed.

Coalfur spit beneath him, striking out at Stormwhisker's already-bloodied shoulder. Stormwhisker hissed, biting back the pain as he snapped at Coalfur's scruff, feeling his teeth sink into the black cat's fur. Digging his teeth in harder, he whipped Coalfur's head from side to side. The RiverClan tom stopped his struggles for a few moments, rattled at Stormwhisker's attack. Stormwhisker used it to his advantage, kicking out at Coalfur's unprotected belly with thorn-sharp claws.

Coalfur shrieked in pain, going limp under his paws. Stormwhisker hesitated. Was he really giving up this easily.

In his moment of delay, he realized his mistake. Coalfur heaved upward with his forepaws, springing back onto the gray tom and tearing at his thick pelt.

The pair rolled across the flame-scorched ground, screeching and ripping at each other with teeth and claws. Stormwhisker hadn't been seriously injured during the battle. Yet despite Coalfur's brutal fight with Blizzardstar, the RiverClan deputy seemed as strong as ever despite his wounds.

Finally, a jarring blow to the head sent Stormwhisker sprawling. Coalfur let out a furious snarl as he pinned him down, digging his claws into his pelt. "Fool!" he spit. "You think you can win?" He leaned closer, his fish-smelling breath right in Stormwhisker's face. "When I kill you, I'll ensure that every last ShadowClan coward is gone from this forest!"

Stormwhisker hissed in pain as the dark tom placed his claws on his throat. "You're the only coward here," he rasped. "You and your whole fox-hearted Clan!"

Coalfur let out a snarl of rage, ripping his claws across his face. Stormwhisker flinched in pain. Closing his eyes, he waited for the final blow to come.

But suddenly, the weight on his chest was flung away. He opened his eyes in shock to see a snarling ginger blur tackling Coalfur away.

_Russetfoot!_ He dragged himself back to his paws, watching as his brother fiercely attacked the RiverClan deputy, teeth bared in a savage snarl as he defended his only remaining sibling. The two rolled away from him, where he couldn't see him any longer. Then, a single cry rose above the clamor of the battle.

The crowd of cats suddenly parted, revealing a gasping Coalfur, barely standing. At his paws lay a bloodied Russetfoot.

Coalfur turned his head to appraise the horrified cats in the clearing, green eyes blazing with hatred and fury. Then, without another sound, he collapsed into an unmoving heap. Coalfur was dead.

Every cat stood there in shock as they tried to process what had happened. Then, one of the RiverClan cats lifted his head. "Retreat!" he wailed, turning and fleeing into the burnt forest. "Retreat!"

Slowly, the RiverClan cats came to their senses, tearing after their fellows. All that was left in the camp were ShadowClan's warriors.

In a dreamlike state, he padded towards where Russetfoot lay. "Russetfoot?" he called hoarsely.

A quiet cough was his reply. His brother opened his eyes, shifting his head to look at him. Those strange amber-green eyes; once so full of life and wisdom, now half-glazed. Yet, even on the brink of death, Russetfoot seemed at peace. "Brother," he whispered.

Stormwhisker's limbs were shaking. Here lay the last of his family at his paws. Russetfoot had been there for him his entire life. And now he, too, was about to leave him at last.

"I'm so sorry," he mewed hoarsely, bending close to Russetfoot. "I should have protected you."

Before he could continue, Russetfoot brushed the tip of his tail over his mouth. "There…was…" He coughed. "Nothing…nothing you could have done to stop this, Stormwhisker." Russetfoot smiled weakly. "It was…StarClan's plan…for me."

A sudden wave of rage and hatred toward their ancestors washed over Stormwhisker. "StarClan?" Stormwhisker hissed. "StarClan took our parents away from us! They're taking _you_ away from me!" He shut his eyes tightly against the unbridled emotions that threatened to rip him apart. "StarClan destroyed our Clan," he whispered. "We have no home…no leader, no deputy, no medicine cat…" He trailed off.

Russetfoot continued to fix him with that strange, calm gaze. "ShadowClan has a leader," he whispered, his voice barely audible now. "The best…best warrior…and the best brother."

Stormwhisker's eyes widened as he realized exactly what his brother was saying. "Russetfoot—"

"Lead our Clan," Russetfoot interrupted, with more conviction than Stormwhisker had ever heard him use. "Lead ShadowClan out of the ashes…back to greatness." The ginger tom kept his brother's gaze, even as the light that shone behind it began to dim. "Lead them…for me…"

The air hissed gently out of Russetfoot's lungs. Slowly, the fire behind those amber-green eyes died. Stormwhisker's brother was gone, leaving only an empty shell.

"Russetfoot? Russetfoot!" Stormwhisker buried his muzzle in his dead brother's pelt. "Don't leave me! Not now! Not after everything!" He was well aware of the fact that he sounded like a kit. But he didn't care. "Come back…"

"You heard him, Stormwhisker."

He lifted his head Petalfrost had gotten to her paws. Her voice was shaky and quiet, but her gaze was strong. "He named _you_ our leader."

Raising her head, she began to yowl to the sky. "Stormstar!" she cried. "Stormstar! Stormstar!"

Gradually, the cats of ShadowClan began to take up the cry. "Stormstar! Stormstar! Stormstar!"

Stormwhisker—no, Storm_star_—listened to their yowls silently. His whole being shook with exhaustion. He had just lost the only family member he had left. But he got to his paws, forcing himself to hold back the tide of his emotions. He had to—for his Clan.

ShadowClan was weak. They had no home. They had injured warriors and no herbs, no medicine cat to treat them.

Yet somehow, in the hurricane inside his head, Stormwhisker found himself sheltered on an island of peace.

Because, if nothing else, he had always trusted his brother's judgement.

He always would.


End file.
